


A Medical Emegency

by marlosbooknook



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-14 14:47:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11210268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marlosbooknook/pseuds/marlosbooknook
Summary: It was just a regular busy day in the A&E for Dr. Claire Beauchamp, until a certain red headed Scot came in.Based on quote prompts send to me on tumblr!





	1. Chapter 1

245.”What counts as medical emergency?”

“Your whole body is a medical emergency!” 

  1. "Don’t get him all fired up. I’m gonna be the one who has to calm him down afterwards"



The A&E was a swarming anthill, with doctors and nurses scurrying in every direction, pushing gurneys and wheel-chairs full of incapacitated patients. Claire’s pager buzzed, sending her running from the nurses station, where she was taking a brief reprieve from the surrounding chaos, to the ambulance entrance.

She swerved around the bustling crowd, quickly tying her riotous curls back while she slipped on her rubber gloves. The A&E could either be a doctor’s worst nightmare or a golden opportunity to shine; you never know what’s going to come careening through the door. Claire pushed her way through the entrance into a torrential downpour, the ambulance nowhere in sight. 

_ Just my luck... _ She thought to herself. The ambulance bay was utterly desolate. Not a single doctor other than her had responded to the page, leaving Claire to rely on only herself.

She stood under an awning, rolling on the balls of her feet, and checking her watch. There were better things she could be doing. Surgeries she could be scrubbing in on, patients she could be helping. Anything but waiting for a phantom ambulance that was never going to show up. Claire turned to go back inside.  _ It was probably just a mistake, or Joe trying to mess with me. _ But, just as she was pushing the doors open, the sound of a siren reached Claire’s ears, and she turned around just in time to see the ambulance come careening around the corner, making claire jump back as a wave of water went flying in her direction.

The ambulance doors flew open and the paramedic lowered a gurney carrying a very,  _ very _ large man, whose fiery red hair matched the blood smeared across his face. He was followed by a short brown haired woman, screaming at the ginger giant at the top of her lungs. 

Claire ignored them, rushing over to the paramedic.

“What do we have here?”

“Patient is James Fraser, 23 years old. GSW to the upper right shoulder as well as dislocation.”

Claire whipped out a small flashlight and walked over to her patient.

“Mr. Fraser? My name is Doctor Beauchamp.” She shined the light in his eyes.

“It's no’ my brain that's broken doctor, so you dinna need to shine that godforsaken torch in my face. And please, call me Jamie.”

As if on cue, the brunette woman confronted Claire, and despite being significantly taller than her, Claire felt more than a little intimidated.

“Well are ye going to mend my clotheid of a brother?” she questioned.

“I will, as soon as I assess the damage.”

Jamie’s sister seemed satisfied with the answer and backed down, introducing herself as Janet, or Jenny, before being escorted inside to the waiting room. But before she left, she stopped and called back “And dinna get him all fired up, because God knows i’ll be the one who has to calm him down afterwards!”

As Claire wheeled her patient inside, she mentally made inventory of his injuries.

_ Dislocated shoulder, GSW, a hand so splintered, the white of the bone stood out like a pearl among the blood.  _

_ Jesus H.  _ Roosevelt _ Christ! What did this man do to himself, and how on Earth was he so damn calm? _

“Mr. Fraser- Jamie. Would you mind explaining to me what happened?”

“Ach. Well, I got into a bit of a scuffle with a man at a pub. He was coming onto a poor lassie and being rather rough wi’ her, so I had to put him in his place. Dinna fash Sassenach, tis naught but a scratch.”

Claire was utterly baffled. The man needed to be wheeled to the OR immediately in order to repair his hand and stitch the wound on his shoulder. She parked him near a computer as she proceeded to book an OR. She hadn't even realized her patient was reading the screen over her shoulder.

“What would ye count as a ‘medical emergency’?”

“Your whole body is a medical emergency!” She responded in exasperation, “I don’t think you understand the gravity of your situation, Mr. Fraser.”

“Well, I’m sure I wouldn’t, considering I’m no’ a doctor. But once this whole mess is sorted, I wouldna be opposed to ye explaining it over dinner and some whisky? What do ye say, Doctor Beauchamp?”

Claire couldn’t resist smiling at his bold statement, especially with him resembling the human version of a car wreck. 

“It’s Claire.” she replied, and his face lit right up. 

When they reached the OR, Claire departed to scrub in, while Jamie was being prepped for surgery. Jamie could sense her watching him as he was wheeled away, a smile at the corners of her mouth revealing the sudden affection she had developed for her patient. The mask was placed over Jamie's mouth and nose, and as the anesthesiologist told him to count backwards from 10, the last thought that crossed his mind was of the brown haired lass waiting for him when he woke up.

_ Claire. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire finally grants Jamie his promised date.

It was two weeks before Claire could stomach facing Jamie again. The surgery had been a success, and Claire had meticulously mended the shattered bones of Jamie’s hand. She hadn’t counted on the infection that set in, keeping him bedridden and feverish for nearly a week. Claire couldn’t help but feel responsible.

“It happens all the time LJ. I wouldn’t worry about it.” said Joe Abernathy, Claire’s fellow doctor and hospital confidante. She knew that there was nothing she could have done, that infections happen and it was out of her control, but the thought of seeing Jamie in more pain, with even the smallest chance of it being by her hand, was too much to bear. She didn’t know what is was about this Scot: his bull-headedness, the way his nose crinkled when he smiled at her as she was wheeling him into surgery, or how peaceful and innocent he looked under anesthesia, the softness of his face making him look like a child. Whatever it was, Claire found herself experiencing feelings she had never felt before, and it left her simultaneously terrified and exhilarated.

It was a Tuesday afternoon, and Claire had just finished a run of the mill appendectomy. Granted with a brief reprieve, she quickly cleaned herself off before heading to the on-call room, eager to take a quick rest before her pager summoned her again. Unfortunately, she found herself having to cross through the recovery wing, where Jamie lay behind the closed door of room 263. Claire had continued to follow his case, coercing nurses into providing valuable intel on his condition and moral.

_ “Yes, he is eating.” _

_ “No. He doesn’t have a fever.” _

_ “If you’re so interested Doctor, why don’t you go ask him yourself?” _

Still, Claire refused to step foot in that room. The nagging guilt in her stomach surrounding his prolonged hospitalization, coupled with the more puzzling stirrings deep in the pit of her stomach, wouldn’t allow her to walk down the white tile hall leading up to his room. Unfortunately, she currently had no other option.

She went by as quickly as she could, keeping her head down and praying that no one would stop her.

“Doctor Beauchamp!”

Claire grimaced as she heard her name and reluctantly turned around to face her summoner.

“Ah, Mrs. Murray. I hope all is well?”

“Aye. Things have been goin’ on well enough for me, though I canna say the same about my brother.” 

Claire felt her heart drop.  _ Had something happened to Jamie? Was the infection back? _ The cold white walls of the hall seemed to stretch out before her, and her head began to spin. She wanted to respond, to ask Jamie’s sister, Jenny, what was wrong. But for the first time, Claire couldn’t find the words. 

Jenny saw the distress in Claire’s eyes. “He’s been askin’ for you.” she said, “Said that you owed him a date.”

_ He remembered that? _ Claire thought, shocked that after weeks, a major operation, and a bout of illness, Jamie still remembered the date she had promised. 

Claire felt her cheeks go hot. “I guess I do… I just wasn’t sure if-”

“If he was being serious? Doctor Beauchamp, ye may not have known my brother long, but you oughta be able to tell that it wasna the pain speaking when he asked to see you again. I canna tell you why, but ye seem to have him wrapped around your dainty English finger.”

Claire was left dumbfounded. Maybe whatever nagging feeling in her gut that had been plaguing her since her first meeting with Jamie Fraser was mutual. Or, maybe he wanted to see her to ask what she did wrong, how horribly she had failed to keep him in hospital for an extra week,  _ at least.  _

“I'll try and see him as soon as I can; I promise. But I really have to get going now, a doctor’s work never ends.” She slowly backed away. “It really was nice to speak with you again, Mrs. Murray, and I’m happy to hear that Mr. Fraser is recovering well. Give him my best.” And with that, Claire practically sprinted down the hall, feeling Jenny’s eyes burning into her back until she turned the corner.

Forgetting about her intent to rest, she pushed open the door to the women’s room, pushing into a stall, unsure whether she was about to throw up, burst into tears, or some combination of the two. She sat, chest heaving, her head in her hands, breathing in the sanitary scent of her post-surgery, anti-bacterial soap. 

_ Pull yourself together Beauchamp. You’re a bloody doctor for Christ’s sake! _

Slowly, Claire felt herself begin to calm, her hands stopped shaking and her heart no longer felt like it was going to burst from her chest. She left the stall, and stared at herself in the warped mirror over the sink, splashing water on her face and running a hand through her knotted curls. She thought about what Jenny had said; Jamie  _ wanted _ to see her. 

She knew she couldn’t hide any longer, and it was time to face the music. Taking a steely breath, and making one final adjustment to her hair, Claire escaped the rest-room and made her way to the cafe.

Arms laden with all of the delicacies the hospital had to offer, Claire stood outside of Jamie’s room, unsure what was awaiting her inside. Was she about to face the angry wrath of a man betrayed by his doctor, or was she going to find the same stubborn, exuberant face she had met in the A&E? Regardless, she had no other choice than to face him. Shifting the food in her arms, Claire quickly rapped at the door, her heart racing as she heard his Scottish lilt.

“Come in.”

Claire fumbled with the door handle with sweaty palms,  _ hardly the dexterous fingers used just hours ago as she sutured the abdomen of her patient.  _ She entered the room frazzled, taken aback by how utterly bare it was. Jamie lay in his bed against the wall, an IV slowly dripping antibiotics into his arm. Where patients normally had the walls decorated with well-wishes from loved ones or the doodles of a young relative, the walls of Jamie’s room remained starkly white. There were no cards on the table, nor flowers, save for the traditional bundle of forget-me-nots left by nurses wilting in a hideous ceramic vase. Jamie was reading a book, but she couldn’t make out the title from where she was stood. It didn't matter, he set the book aside as soon as she entered the room. 

When he saw her, his face lit up like the sun. 

“Ach! Doctor Beauchamp, I wasna expectin’ you. If I had known you would be payin’ me a visit, I would have made myself look a bit more presentable.”

In all honesty, Claire couldn't complain about his appearance. The whiteness of the room made the red of his hair glow like flames, and the periwinkle of his hospital gown made his blue irises shine. It made her feel self-conscious, the horrid green of her scrubs making her look ill, and her hair hastily gathered into a bun on the top of her head.  But his warm reception eased her trepidations and made the corners of her mouth lift into a smile.

“Well, I had promised you a date, and I felt it was about time I followed through.”

She pulled up a chair next the the bed, and lay out the assortment of snacks she had brought. 

“I would have brought some actual food, but I didn’t want to poison you. So, pre-packaged it is.” She waved her hands over the assembled pile of crisps, muffins, sandwiches, and bottles of juice.

Jamie gave the food a skeptical look, before turning to Claire and grinning.

“‘Tis a feast worthy of God himself!”

And so they settled in, Claire’s fears quickly forgotten as she and Jamie slipped back into the quick rappeur they had shared during their initial meeting. The conversation started playfully enough, Claire inquiring about how he was feeling, and whether he was finally going to admit to the extent of damage he had taken during the brawl.

“I didna want to start anything, but the way I saw him treating the lass had me boiling.”

Claire snickered, “Chivalry isn't dead after all. You’re a modern knight in shining armour.”

Jamie, as gallantly as he could confined to a bed, bowed with a flourish, kissing Claire’s hand without ever taking his eyes off of hers.

The electricity in the room was palpable. Time seemed to slow significantly as Claire and Jamie conversed, toasting their bottled grape juice and exchanging tales about their childhood. He recounted the chaos of Lallybroch, where he was able to run wild through the highlands, causing all sorts of mischief. She told tales of her worldly adventures with her Uncle Lamb, traveling the world on archeological digs.

“But why did you go with your uncle?” Jamie asked, “Wouldn’t it have been simpler to have gotten a traditional education with your parents in England?”

She sobered, putting down the blueberry muffin she had been picking at. “My parents died in a car accident when I was young. My uncle was the only family I had left…”

He placed a comforting palm on Claire’s hand, his thumb making soothing circles over her porcelain skin.

“I ken how ye feel... my mam passed when I was a lad; Da followed her shortly thereafter. Most people say he died of a broken heart.”

It was Claire’s turn to comfort, leaning forward and brushing a stray auburn curl out of his face. Their noses were nearly touching, and she breathed in Jamie’s rugged highland scent. Despite the overwhelming sanitary odor that permeated the air, Jamie radiated the scent of the  outdoors: a mixture of pine and musk, leather and whisky. It made her dizzy. The pair sat in silence for a moment, taking each other in as if the other would disappear at any moment. She could feel his eyes boring into her, memorizing every last angle of her face, and she found herself floating away in the azure of his eyes. 

“You were the first thing I thought about,” Jamie said suddenly, breaking the spell that had rendered them silent. “I ken it sounds daft, but when I woke up after the surgery, the only thought in my mind was your name.  _ Claire _ .”

“Well...” She murmured, a smile at the corner of her mouth. “That would imply that I was the last thing you were thinking about before you went under anaesthesia.”

“Aye. I guess that you were.”

The pair slid into a state of tranquil silence, content just to be in each other's company. Claire wanted to ask Jamie if he blamed her for the infection, but she knew just what his answer would be. It seemed utterly impossible for Jamie to find a fault in his former doctor; she could tell just from observing the adoration in his eyes. It made her heart swell knowing that she could spend just a few hours with someone and have this coursing stream of affection serving as a tether between the two of them. It was something she didn’t want to lose. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, why me?” Claire asked hesitantly, her fingers tracing up and down the thin cotton bedspread, leaving soft indentations in their wake. “You didn’t know me. I could have been a bloody monster for all you knew, yet you still asked me on this ‘date’; I just... don’t understand.”

“I dinna ken it either, Sassenach, but the moment I saw you in the ambulance bay, I needed to know you. There are no words to explain the way I feel about you. It sounds daft, but I think I may be falling in love with you, Dr. Claire Beauchamp.”

In the past, a similar declaration would have sent Claire running for the hills. The very notion of being in love terrified her. It was a completely foreign feeling that she had yet to experience. Yet, sitting beside Jamie in his hospital bed, surrounded by crumpled food wrappers and crumbs, Claire she knew that whatever feeling Jamie was describing- regardless of whether it was love- she felt it, too. She struggled in vain to come up with a response, but her head was addled with thousands of thoughts. 

_ Am I losing my mind?  _

_ Is it morally wrong to see a patient?  _

_ What if we’re both wrong? _

She opened her mouth to speak, Jamie’s eyes tuned to her in anticipation for her response. The door flew open, revealing a very flustered Joe Abernathy.

“Jesus, LJ, where have you been? It’s all hands on deck, multi-car collision, multiple code blues. We need you down in the A&E!” 

“I’ll be right down.” Claire responded curtly, giving Jamie an apologetic look. 

“It’s alright, Doctor. Duty calls. I’ll still be waiting here when ye’re done.” Jamie smiled softly, and before she knew what she was doing, Claire found herself leaning across the bed and kissing him. He made a surprised noise in the back of his throat, but didn’t pull away. Her hands found their way around his neck and she could hear the heart monitors rapid beeping, giving away Jamie’s racing heart.  It wasn’t until Joe cleared his throat that Claire snapped back to reality and pulled away sheepishly.

She jumped off the bed, straightened her scrubs and raced out of the room, leaving a stunned Joe Abernathy and a stupefied Jamie in her wake.

A sharp British shout echoed from down the hall, “Joe, are you coming?”

He looked out the door, then back at the red-headed patient sitting in the hospital bed in front of him, struggling to piece together what he had just witnessed.

“Hell of a first date!” He joked before escaping the room in search of Claire, leaving Jamie alone with the feeling of Claire’s lips pressed against his own.

_ Hell of a first date, indeed! _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part One of Two

It was the shrill buzz of the alarm that sent Claire leaping from bed, the remnants of her dream still clinging to her skin. Or maybe it wasn’t a dream after all. She gazed down at the mass taking up the majority of full-sized bed. Tufts of copper hair poked from underneath the white duvet, mussed from sleep. It was an inexplicable connection that brought Claire and Jamie together, but they were content to bask in each other’s presence.  
Six months had passed since Jamie had been released from the hospital, and he had scarcely left Claire’s side in that time. They shrugged off the skepticism of Claire's coworkers at the hospital, who looked down at her workplace romance. Claire couldn’t count how many times a nosy nurse or ambitious resident brought up the hospital protocol which forbade romantic relationships between patients and their doctors. A quick reminder that Mr. Fraser was no longer a surgical patient and a telling glare was all it took to send them scurrying back to their business.  
Goddamn vultures don’t know how to mind their own bloody business!  
Their time together had been a whirlwind, for sure, but Claire wouldn't have traded it for the world. It was her who asked Jamie to move in and share their lives, after only being together for about five months. The only complaint came from Claire’s kitten Adso, who did not take kindly to being replaced as the man of the house. Her small flat was littered with their shared possessions, silly mementos of their time together. A massive teddy bear Jamie won a local theme park on their first official date. The silly crown she had bought for him on their two months anniversary at Lallybroch. All of those trivial possessions made the flat into a home.  
Their home.  
Claire felt herself pulled from her state of tranquility as a wave of nausea overcame her, sending her scrambling for the toilet. It was rare that Claire fell ill, but this recent bout hit her like a rock. She had shrugged off Jamie’s repeated attempts to seek help and convince her to see a doctor.  
“I am telling you,” she swore, “I am absolutely fine! It’s probably just the hospital food.”  
I know it is the food. It can’t be anything else.  
For the rest of the week Jamie packed Claire a lunch, refusing to let her touch the cafeteria fare.  
As she lay hunched over the toilet, retching up last night’s dinner of frozen calzones, she felt a cold hand on her shoulder.  
“God Jamie, go away! I don’t want you seeing me like this… Have some sympathy!” she cried.  
Even though her head was turned, she could sense the concern in his eyes.  
“I’ll show some sympathy when ye decide to see a doctor!” he responded  
And so it begins again.  
“I don’t need to see a doctor Jamie…. I am a bloody doctor!”  
He sighed. “Aye. I ken that quite well. Ye might recall that’s how we met. But Claire, mo nighean, will you please go see a doctor? If not for you, then to ease me own concerns.”  
‘How many times must I tell you. I am fine! There is nothing wrong with me!”  
Liar.  
“You can say that as many times as ye wish, but there is something amiss about ye. Can you not at least talk to me about it. Maybe there is something I can do to help. It hurts me to see you suffering..”  
She knew what he wanted. She could see it in the light of his eyes when he gazed at her stomach. But she couldn’t give him what he wanted, she knew it. She was a broken thing, a cast-off toy. There was a dull ache, a festering hole inside her that tortured her every single day. And Jamie couldn’t know about it. Not yet. Or she would lose him too.  
Claire rose, eyes blazing and smoothed down the curls that flew across her face.  
“I. Said. No.” Claire pushed past Jamie as she made her way of of the apartment, trying not to let him see the tears in her eyes. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to be late for work.”  
“Claire, wait!” Jamie tried to grab her, but she pushed past him. She paused hearing her given name. It was so rare he used it, but when he did it was in earnest. It was important. But not now. This was not a conversation they were going to have. It was not a conversation that she was prepared to have. It had gone so wrong the last time..  
She was leaning over the bed, hastily shoving her belongings into a bag when she felt Jamie's arms snake around her middle, pinning her in place.  
Not there. Anywhere but there.  
She whipped around with more ferocity than she knew she possessed. Her words came out like a hiss, full of anger and malice and grief.  
“Don’t you fucking touch me!”  
And the conversation ended. Jamie stood in shock. He took a tentative step back leaving Claire bristling in her place. She could sense his hurt, the anguish as he watched her suffer. But she was going to suffer alone. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. What could she say?  
I’m sorry.  
But sorry for what? Sorry for hurting him, for lying to him, for being a failure. It was too much. So she said nothing.  
She grabbed her brag from the bed and walked out of the bedroom eyes averted. She couldn’t bear to see what he was thinking.


	4. Chapter 4

Claire sat in the hospital parking lot, her fingers drumming a staccato melody on the leather of her steering wheel. The crisp air inside the car was a cocoon, shielding the world from the typhoon of emotions raging inside her. She glanced at her own warped reflection in the overhead mirror, the inky mascara trails shattering her porcelain skin; her face seemed like a fitting manifestation of her own brokenness, a dull ache that had seemed to disappear almost entirely over the past couple months she had spent with Jamie.

_ Jamie. _

The thought of him nearly broke Claire open again. She could still see the look on his face, the unfiltered pain in his eyes as she slammed the door behind her. She contemplated her options. Go back and apologize, tell him she was broken beyond repair? That any hope he had of starting a life with her, having a  _ family  _ with her was simply impossible… 

_ No _ . Claire thought. That would only hurt him more. She could see the scene playing out in front of her the same way it did before with Frank. Her anguish would be soothed with gentle reassurances, that everything would be okay, that maybe this was how it was supposed to be. But despite their best efforts, slowly but surely, everything would crumble; his eyes would stray to the next pretty young thing, the animalistic urge of man to procreate driving him away from Claire and the emptiness of her womb. For Frank it was an intern, Claire wondered who it would be for Jamie…

“Fuck. Fuck.  _ Fuck! _ ” Claire's screams echoes across the empty parking deck, the pounding of her fists causing her car horn to beep in tune to her anguish. 

It would be far easier to say nothing; it would cause them both less pain. Claire wondered what Jamie thought of her now, that she must be unhinged. Her leaving would be no great loss to him anyways, it would only serve to save him from the eventual heartbreak. It would be better to lose him this way, within her control. Like ripping a plaster off, quick and painless. Claire’s heart ached to imagine life without Jamie in it. The emptiness she felt before and now, the notion that it could all come crashing down again, leaving her stranded on that bloody island of loneliness, of dissatisfaction, seemed too much to bear. But for Jamie she would do it. She could give him the opportunity to move on and find someone who could fulfill his dream of a family large enough to mimic his own upbringing. 

Resigned, Claire gathered her things, swept her hair back into a messy bun, and made her best effort to look like her life hadn’t come crashing down around her. All the while she figured out her next move.

_ Make it through today, book a hotel, shop for new flat, and pray that Jamie wouldn't be around when she went by to collect her things the next morning. _

She braced her hand against the cool metal door, taking a deep breath before pushing it open and becoming enveloped in the chaos of the hospital. The swirl of voices around, the cluster of people shoving past her, interns making their rounds, residents rushing to the OR, grounded Claire, and she felt her mind begin to ease, the urge to save lives overtaking any thoughts of that morning. But deep down, she could still feel it gnawing on her insides, making her gasp for air and struggle to stand as pangs of grief rocked through her. 

The morning went by without incident. Claire strived to make as little conversation as possible, even the pleasant words of Joe Abernathy failed to pique her interests. Her focus was solely on whomever lay on the table in front of her. She performed two appendectomies without hesitation, and she tuned out the words of fellow surgeons, wondering what had turned Dr. Beauchamp into a surgical robot. 

It wasn’t until noon, when she sat weary in the attending’s lounge, that the weight of the world once again fell on her shoulders. Sighing, Claire placed her head in her hands, willing the urge to sob to sease, knowing well that if they did, she wouldn’t be able to stop them. She felt the cushion shift beside her. She didn’t have to look up to know that Joe was sitting beside her, laying a hand on her shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Are you feeling alright, Lady Jane?” he asked, unable to mask the concern seeping into his voice.

Claire said nothing. What was there to say?

“Claire,” Joe tried again, “You can talk to me, you know that right?” 

It was rare for Joe to refer to Claire by her given name, and the sound of it, laced with compassion and understanding, was enough to compel her to speak.

Claire’s throat wobbled and her words came out stilted.

“I- I… I can’t have children.” 

Joe sat back with a long exhale. He opened his mouth to speak but he thought better of it, letting Claire continue.

“I know that I should have said something to him. It was so bloody  _ selfish _ of me. I should have given him the chance to leave. And now I’ve ruined it, Joe. I’ve ruined it.” Claire’s last sentence came out in a hush, the pressure building up inside her making it nearly impossible to speak.

“Does this have something to do with Jamie? Because if it does, I am happy to find him and give him a piece of my mind…”

“No. It’s not Jamie. It’s me. I feel like I’ve been lying to him. I know he wants a family and everytime he looks at me I’m just reminded of all that I can’t give him.”

Claire stopped as she braced herself to discuss that morning.

“And today- I woke up ill. It’s happened a few times. And I know what he’s thinking. I can see the hope in his eyes, but I can’t tell him. If I did I know it would hurt him…”

“He thinks your pregnant?” Joe asked.

Claire nodded forlornly. “He hasn't said it outright, but I can tell. He tells me that I’m the one with the glass face, but sometimes he is just as easy to read.”

“But are you sure that you’re not? Pregnant, I mean.”

“I can’t be. At least, I don’t think so…”

“Are you late?” Joe looked at her knowingly, willing Claire to answer. In the years that they had been working together, their conversations had crossed the usual boundaries between coworkers. This was no different.

Claire hesitated to respond. “I’m sure it’s nothing. I haven’t been eating much recently, and my sleep schedule is off, and…”

“Come with me.” Joe took Claire by the hand and lifted her off of he bench they had been seated on. He led her down the hall, purposely shielding Claire’s red rimmed eyes from the prying gazes of the nurses. 

“Joe, please,” Claire protested. “This is ridiculous!”

Joe ignored her, coming to a stop in front of a supply closet. Claire looked around, exasperated and embarrassed as Joe fished a set of keys from his scrub pocket and set about unlocking the door.

He vanished inside, Claire standing in the doorframe, knowing that if she did she would be admitting that she had hope. And hope would only serve to cause more heartbreak. 

Joe reappeared, pressing a small box into Claire’s hands, while never taking his eyes off of hers. She squeezed the cardboard packaging until the edged began to cave under the pressure of her fingers, knuckles white. 

“Take the test, LJ. You might be surprised.”

Claire could only nod; if she opened her mouth, she wasn't sure what would come out. She put the package into her own pocket, cringing as she felt the corners sticking out through the thin fabric of her scrubs. With a final glance at Joe, she turned and made her way for the staff restroom, breathing a sigh of relief that it was empty. She didn’t need anyone else to witness her embarrassment. Closing her eyes, she took the test out of her pocket and gingerly opened the box, cradling the plastic wand between her fingers like it was a sacred relic, one of the archeological treasures she dug up in the desert with her Uncle Lamb. She threw the instructions into the bin. She’d seen enough people take the test, she’d taken plenty of them herself, when she was still desperately trying to convince herself that there was a chance. 

Claire pushed into a stall, making sure the door was firmly locked behind her. She sat down on the toilet as a wave of panic crept up inside of her, all of the ifs and the buts crashing over her head like lightning. Her hands were shaking, surgeon’s dexterity vanished in a moment of panic. She closed her eyes, counted to ten and did it. 

The minutes seemed to creep by at a snail’s pace. Claire sat with her head trained to the door in front of her, mind racing with the possibilities, both good and bad. Occasionally, her eye would drift downwards towards her lap, where the test sat gingerly placed on her thighs, but she would quickly averyt her eyes. She knew what the result would be. The silence pounded in her ears, and all Claire could think about was Jamie. The pure unfettered love she felt for him, the aching desire to never leave his side, and the grief at knowing she would never be enough for him. 

Claire wretched her eyes downwards, blinking away the memories and the pain.

_ No. It can’t be. It’s impossible.  _

The fog suddenly seemed to clear from Claire’s  mind, as her attention was focused on the pregnancy test in her lap—and the two little vertical lines that were slowly fading into view. She knew what it meant, despite every brain cell screaming at her that it couldn't be true. 

She was pregnant. 


End file.
